


For the Wrong Reasons

by karin6824



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, In-Panem AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-15 11:13:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4604571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karin6824/pseuds/karin6824
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They weren't part of the rebellion. In fact, it was years ago.<br/>That first summer Katniss had to wonder why her father had died fighting to end Snow’s reign, if now she had to watch mandatory viewing and see as Capitol children were reaped for another version of the Hunger Games.<br/>This was their new life. At first of ghosts and memories. Of reconstruction, cold winters, and thin bare clothes. They got a cat, maybe in replacement of a mother.<br/>The Capitol is gone, but nothing is really different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own the Hunger Games, English is not my first language, unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine.

There’s a knock on the door and an all too familiar flutter awakes inside him. There are only two persons that would come through the back door of the bakery, and since it’s a week day and the mines are open, it can only be her. He leaves the bowl he had been using for mixing batter on the work table, cleans his hands on his apron, and goes to open the wooden door, a smile spreading across his lips.

“Katniss, hi!” She’s frowning. Did he sound too cheery? Maybe it’s too early for that. But then again, Katniss is frowning more often than not. “How are you?”

“I got squirrels.” She skips the usual pleasantries, avoiding his gaze, and goes straight to take her catch out of the game bag. Her fingers are clumsy and she fights against the straps that close her bag.

“Great. How did hunting go?” he tries again; she grunts something under her breath. He nods in acknowledgement anyway, even though he has no idea what she said; not that she’s paying him any attention.

She finally manages to take three squirrels out, and goes to hand them to him when one slips from her fingers. She would have dropped it if wasn’t for his quick reaction, his hands enveloping hers, holding her still.

She looks at him, startled, almost like she’s prey.

He keeps her there for a second, their eyes locked, his hands still encasing hers. “You okay?”

“Fine,” she frees herself from his hold and shoves the squirrels at him.

He lingers for a moment before going inside the bakery. “Wait a second,” he tells her, leaving the door wide open. He puts the squirrels on the counter near the sink, washes his hands, and gets her bread in a bag. He knows better than sneaking any extras in.

 “There you go,” he is handing her the bag of bread, when he notices it. “You have a leaf on your hair,” he informs her.

Her free hand rushes up to her head, strands of hair falling from her braid in her attempt to snatch it away, but the leaf stays stubbornly tucked in between tresses.

“Here,” he reaches forward, “let me.” His fingers delicately grab the leaf, even though it feels like he should leave it there, like it belongs in her hair, with her, this girl of the woods. It almost seems wrong, like he’s pulling out the feathers of a bird.

He pulls his hand away, making a pause to show her the small leaf, before - he hopes casually - putting his hand inside his front pocket, the leaf still grasped between his fingers. He’ll save it for later, for when he’s drawing her from memory and he’s trying to conjure up the way her eyes got fixed on him while he was retrieving it. A small token.

She still has that nervous energy flowing around her from when she arrived, she’s biting her lip and he can see her hands shake ever so slightly. “Katniss, you sure you’re okay?”

She nods mutely, almost ignoring his question, while putting away the bag of bread inside her game bag.

“Anything I can do to help?” he insists.

She finishes fiddling with the straps that close her bag and looks back up at him. And stares. Strands of hair that have escaped from her braid fall over her face, her clothes dirty from the woods. She’s a wild creature he doesn’t know how to approach.

He shifts on his feet, trying to come up with something else to say. Maybe he could ask her to come inside and have some tea?  No, if his mother came downstairs... Maybe the pig shed, introduce her to Mud, Tail and Ribbon, distract her with the animals and help—

“Marry me.”

His head snaps at attention. “Wh- _what_?”

Her eyes widen, as if she’s just realizing what she said and her hand flies up, slapping over her mouth.

It goes on a loop inside his mind. _Marry me_. _Marry me_. _Marry me_. He closes his mouth and then opens it. _Marry me_. He closes it again. Did she really...?

“Katniss?” he whispers, too many questions hiding in her name.

She doesn’t answer.

She turns around and bolts.

He shouts her name, calling for her. But he’s left behind without a glance back, dumbfounded, staring at the old apple tree.

Katniss Everdeen just asked him to marry her.

Real or not real?

“Wipe that shit eating grin out of your face and come help me with the baking,” his brother calls from inside the bakery.

Peeta can only do the latter.

                             

After a while, over-kneading the dough for butter cookies until the point it becomes rigid, his brother speaks again.

“Go do something else, maybe help dad with the store front or something, you’re useless like this,” Rye complains, “any moment now you’ll start puking rainbows.”

Peeta snorts, but his smile stays wide on his face, pinned on his lips by two simple words. _Marry me_. And even though he doesn’t understand any of it, he can’t shake the feeling of giddiness inside him.

He leaves the dough he had been kneading on the table for his brother to figure how to fix and goes fetch his sketchbook to re-do the designs he had been planning on using for the cake for the Mayor’s daughter’s toasting.

When it’s finished, it will his best cake yet.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not really happy about this chapter and debated for a while on adding it, but decided that some explanation and context was needed.  
> Next chapter will be longer and more dynamic.

They weren’t part of the rebellion. In fact it was years ago. Alma Coin is now the president of the 14 districts of Panem.  Yes, _fourteen_. Apparently District 13 wasn’t dead. And they changed the name of the Capitol to District 0 when the war ended, to put them on the same level as the rest, they said, but no one really calls it that. And they’re not on the same level.

Katniss lives in the Seam, with her mother and sister. Her father left for war to fight for the cause. He never returned. Only a piece of paper came back, declaring him ‘missing’. And a few weeks later, another one, pronouncing him dead.

 

That first summer she had to wonder why her father had died fighting to end Snow’s reign, if now she had to assist mandatory viewing and watch as Capitol children were reaped for a ‘new version’ of the Hunger Games.

The next year, when another round of capitol Games had ended, protests had arisen in some of the districts, the Games being one of the main reasons. It had been enough to scare the president advisors, or maybe the president herself, and more soldiers (the new peacekeepers) had been sent to the districts to keep them contained.

So they keep the Games in the back of their minds, almost like a second thought. That’s how they go by with their days. Able to ignore what’s right in front of them because it’s not happening to them. It’s not right. But, slowly, they become numb.

 

When her father was killed in action, her mother shut down and it fell upon Katniss to keep them from drowning in the ashes and find a way to survive.

After months of selling every last item of value they owned, and using the little money they had been given, there was nothing else left and no food to eat.

It was only after, when Peeta tossed her the bread, when she found a stray dandelion at the end of winter, that she found refuge in the woods. She remembered what her father had taught her and started gathering plants that she knew were safe, and, if not sure, she would check the plant book. And as her skill with the bow and arrow improved, she took upon hunting as well.

And somehow, with selling her findings and trading others, she managed to keep them alive. And fed. And warm.

 

They got used to this new life. At first of ghosts and memories. Of reconstruction, cold winters, and thin bare clothes. They got a cat, maybe in replacement of a mother. Muffled crying that you could only hear at night, right after waking from a nightmare.

But then the shadow cloaking over their mother started to withdraw, and just like that they got their mother back. Although not quite the same that had first left. Katniss’ aim with a bow improved. They learned to take one day at a time. Survive. Going always for the cheapest and rationing for as long as it would last. Then came the patients, sick and injured lying on their kitchen table. This was their new life. Shoes that didn’t fit quite right, dried blood stuck under her fingernails, and coal dust in their lungs.

But now their mother was going blind. It had started slowly, a very thin, almost invisible mist covering her eyes; only thickening with time. Maybe her mother’s eyes had been too focused in other people diseases to notice her own. But what had Katniss boiling sometimes was that maybe their mother had let it happen, had maybe even wanted it; she was a healer after all, couldn’t she had recognised the symptoms and prevented it from going further? Maybe her mother’s eyes were too tired to keep seeing where they lived, where coal covered the walls and patients had reminders and features of a dead husband, but never finding the man whom they belonged to. She had given up, looking for him where he wouldn’t be found.

Life had taken a harder turn once again. Katniss hadn’t realized they had been living in relative comfort until they weren’t. That they knew they’d have food, as little as it might have been, even through the harshest of winters, they knew they’d make it if they just bore through the cold long enough, that Katniss would catch prey eventually.

She also had her ‘official’ job, or trade more exactly, since hunting and going outside the district is still illegal. She supposedly spends her entire time collecting plants and herbs in the meadow and then turning them into homemade remedies and balms to sell, which was really her mother and sister’s doing. It gave them a small extra amount of money. And it was a good enough cover story.

There are a few soldiers that know the truth though, those who would meander around the Hob every once in a while and even go as far as buying meat from her, like the Leeg twins, who looked forward eating turkey, or Homes, who’d praise her catches, honestly believing what he was saying when he stated they were fatter than they truly were.

And her mother would contribute as well, healing patients and getting some coins or food for it in exchange. And Prim would assist her and learn as much as she could, always following behind Mother like a little duck when they were required at someone’s house.

But with Mother’s developing blindness she wouldn’t be able to continue treating people anymore, not being able to see their symptoms or their wounded leg or twisted arm. And even though Prim had an impressive knowledge on the matter and could take care of the more common and simple things, she wasn’t prepared or ready yet for when it came to something more complex, when it was a more invasive kind of treatment or there were more options than one.

And they would have been fine, hungrier maybe, but still fine, if it weren’t for the new policy that had been established by Thirteen. Their living cost had gone higher, because Katniss had become of age and decided not to marry, now having to pay a tax for it in turn. Because apparently ‘she didn’t need that much money after all, since she was single and didn’t have a family to support’.

Yes. The new government was full of really good ideas.

 

At first Katniss had thought about running away, but the idea had to be dismissed quickly. They’d have to rely only on her. Gale was now married, his first son still a baby. And the act of asking him to run away with her just wouldn’t be fair to him after all that had happened. Prim could assist with foraging, but their mother would be useless, not to mention, lost in the forest once her blindness had completely taken over, with nothing there for her to recognise. They wouldn’t be able to make it.

They would have to stay in District 12.

They’d have to sell all the clothes that didn’t fit anymore, the few they had left that had belonged to their father, and then some. The rest of their furniture that wasn’t completely necessary would have to go as well, like the small seat in the living room, the bookcase and the few books stored in it, and the dresser they had in the bedroom would have to be replaced with a box. They’d have to go back to scraping by and hunger pains that kept them awake at night. But eventually, eventually they’d have nothing else to sell. And try as she might, the numbers wouldn’t add up to make it through the entire winter.

That’s why she now has to get married. They won’t make it otherwise. She can hunt all she wants through spring and summer, but she can’t ignore the facts. The taxes are too high and the income too low. It’s an easy enough math process. Cold minded. Straight to the point and, view as you want it, the result cannot lie.

That’s why she-, she—

She wants to punch herself and pull her hair out and bang her head against a wall all at the same time.

She just asked Peeta Mellark _to marry her_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the response this has gotten! I'm loving all the kudos and comments! Tomorrow I'll take the time to reply your comments (I've wanted to go to bed since before 7pm today, literally)
> 
> For now, enjoy :)

She decided to change her trading route after that. From her years of hunting and trading at the bakery, she knew that Peeta worked mornings, and some afternoons as well, but she wasn’t sure exactly which ones. She remembers him telling her about a bad bargain he  had negotiated years ago with Rye, agreeing to work Friday evenings, so that his brother had time to get ready to go to get-togethers (meaning the slag heap). And he has Mondays off, so there’s that.

Peeta had been entrusted to take over the trades when they were 16 and, after a short confirmation and reassurance from the baker when Katniss had protested, he had been the one bargaining with Katniss at the back door of the bakery ever since.

She’s not sure if she would use the word friends to describe their relationship. Not exactly. Good acquaintances, maybe? They talk while trading; Peeta making a small comment on the weather or the district or telling her about an incident that happened at the bakery recently. And sometimes she would say something in return. Harmless conversation, it doesn’t mean anything. It keeps her on good terms with a paying customer. Besides, Peeta is friendly with everyone.

She hadn’t planned on proposing. Not at all. It had been as much of a surprise for her as it was to him. But she had been standing there, after a bad hunt, with the crushing pressure of the knowledge that she’d have to get married, her stomach grumbling in hunger, and waves of heat coming from inside the bakery warming her up, drunk in the smell of bread... and Peeta, acting like he cared about her, getting so close and taking that stupid leaf from her hair.

Her brain had snapped.

 

That Friday, she goes to the bakery early, knowing that Peeta has the afternoon shift. The baker seems surprised to see her, but doesn’t comment on it apart from saying that it was good seeing her and then carries on with the trade, as if he was the one she had been doing them with for the past three years. On Sunday, she sends Gale to the bakery by himself, claiming she had promised she would help Prim with her homework. And on Monday, she goes during the morning again, happily aware of it being Peeta’s day off.

Her new routine works perfectly.

In fact, her routine isn’t what fails her. Quite the opposite actually, because when she steps out of it, almost three weeks later after her pitiful proposal, and goes to Madge’s toasting, Peeta is there, too. How fitting. Because of course the next time she’d see Peeta Mellark after demanding he marry her would be at a toasting.

She shouldn’t be surprised; what with the size of the party it was more than likely that he would be here. All merchants, or so it seems, were invited after all. She finds him through the crowd, standing on the other end of the garden, wearing a light blue collared shirt, his hair combed back. He’s next to a table, setting down a white tall box, which surely contains a fancy cake from the bakery.

Her fast paced heart and sweaty palms urge her to slip away unnoticed while she can. But the toasting hasn’t taken place yet, and there is no trace of Madge’s whereabouts.

He hasn’t seen her though, so she decides to go back inside and blend in with the crowd somehow, and just _disappear_.

She’s lucky Madge is the Mayor’s daughter, otherwise there wouldn’t be this many guests to get lost in. It’s astonishing, the size of the party. District 12 has never seen something like this before. Tables covered with white cloth, flower arrangements meticulously placed on top. There are some men and women going around with trays filled with food to eat freely before the ceremony starts. Katniss wishes she had somewhere to stuff the small sandwiches in so she could take them back home with her. District 13’s officials are milling around making polite conversation with people from Twelve. Everyone is dressed in their best clothes; Katniss included. She’s wearing a red faded dress from her Mother’s merchant days; probably the only time she’ll get to wear it before she has to sell it. It’s a bit loose around her chest, but her Mother had guided her through stitching a hidden pleat so that the fabric around her waist and hips would fit more properly. And Katniss had even let her mother do her hair, with clumsy fingers picking tresses and braiding them together to the nape of her neck. Prim had marvelled at the finished result.

Prim herself looked beautiful. With a blue dressed that had once belonged to their mother as well; no longer the innocent little girl with pigtails, but a flowering teenager. Pink lipstick on her lips lent by a friend and a braid crossing over her head, while the rest of her hair falls down her back. Almost a woman.

Katniss had lost sight of her as soon as they had arrived. The excitement flowing from her little sister no longer to be contained, as she had dashed inside the party drinking everything in and looking for her friends to gush about every little detail.

Her mother had stayed home, not wanting to expose herself to the whispers of her old life with her ever developing blindness. And Katniss knows better than looking for Gale, even though he had been invited, with wife and child to come along, he had never intended to show up.

Leaving Katniss to her own means.

She shuffles around, munching on a small bread thingy she grabbed from one of the passing by trays, as she scans the room for a good corner to stand and pretend to be invisible.

She almost succeeds at it. Until Delly Cartwright spots her. “Katniss!” she breaks through the crowd, her blonde curls bouncing with her step. “It’s so good to see you! You look so pretty! How are you?”

She forces her face into a pleasant expression that feels more like a grimace and tries to make small talk. Delly is one of those people that are friends with everyone, even if you’re not friends with them, if that makes sense. She’s genuinely nice. She chats with every person she comes across, always bubbly and amiable. That’s why Katniss is now talking with her, even with her awkward short replies, Delly doesn’t seem to mind. “Thom proposed!” she bursts suddenly.

Katniss wasn’t even aware they knew each other.

“Yes! Last Sunday! He came over to dinner with my family and finally popped the question! I’m so happy, Katniss.”

This time her smile comes naturally. “That’s great, Delly. Congratulations!”

Delly thanks her and goes on to list every single detail of what she has thought about and planned so far. “I still can’t quite believe it, you know?” Katniss hums in agreement. As long as she can remain hidden in this corner shadowed by Delly she’ll nod in accordance to whatever the girl says. “What about you? Surely there must be someone.”

“Oh Delly, you should know better than ask that to a _dyke_.”Olive Crow is suddenly standing to her left, Petunia Plum in tow. She doesn’t know what the word dyke means, but scowls anyway, recognizing it as the insult that it’s meant to be. After all, Olive Crow and Petunia Plum had been in her year at school and were known for being the epitome of what a merchant girl should be, including the part about looking down upon anything Seam.

“She isn’t,” Delly says, and then quickly turns back to Katniss, “I mean, it’s fine if you-”

“But do tell us _Katniss_ , what are you going to do now that your _dear_ friend is getting married?” Olive continues, ignoring Delly’s attempt to speak.

She knows that Delly had asked because she actually cared to know, genuinely being nice and interested, and wasn’t just fishing for gossip like this girls were. “That’s none of your business,” she says, wishing she had a better comeback.

“Oh, but it _is_ our business,” Petunia objects. “She’s the Mayor’s daughter, it concerns us all. We only want what’s the best for our District after all.”

“Even if she was the Mayor it wouldn’t concern you whom she chooses to marry.” Katniss tries to argue, her scowl etched on her face.

They ignore her completely. “Such a whirlwind romance, Delly, don’t you think? Some might even say it was _rushed_.” Olive’s pointed stare leaves no doubt about what she’s implying.

“I- ah, I think it must be true love.” Bless Delly, and her never-ending politeness. Katniss would’ve fallen for the bait otherwise.

“Oh yes, for sure,” Olive replies, “You can tell by her glow.” Petunia lets out a ridiculous giggle.

Katniss had heard the rumours. After the shortest courting with the son of a high-ranked official from Thirteen, Madge’s announcement of a toasting had been a surprise to everyone. It had been the talk of the District, people commenting on the fast-paced relationship, and the fact that it was to a stranger from 13. Many said it was a political move, but no one really knew if the Mayor would really go as far as marrying off his daughter to secure his own position. Others said the couple had been too impatient to wait and now had to marry to cover up for their mistakes, the result of Madge getting pregnant.

Katniss knew some of the facts, but hadn’t set the gossips straight. It was not something for her to talk about. If Madge ever did wanted the truth to be known she would say so herself.

“Just like the glow you had around the time before you got married, right Olive?” Delly blurts. Katniss gapes at her. _Did she just say that?_ And not just the comment, but the way she said it, clearly imitating them with the fake sweetness in her voice. Delly looks shocked by herself as well.

 “C’mon Delly.” Katniss grabs the girl’s wrist and moves them away from Olive and Petunia’s heated glares before they can react, just as the ceremony is about to start.

 

It’s weird; while Katniss had always pictured a toasting as something private, the union of the Mayor’s daughter and the son of a high-ranked official from Thirteen had been turned into _this_. A crowd of people, formed by few friends and even less relatives, where most of them were only acquaintances, if not strangers.

Madge is wearing a stunning white gown that doesn’t look even remotely like the ones you can rent in town, but seeing the size and grandeur of the party it’s almost to be expected that she would have the dress custom made for her.

Madge and her soon-to-be husband do the signing of the documents on top of a small platform placed in the middle of the room, with everyone standing around, and a man from the Justice Building preceding the ceremony. They write their names on the papers and, just like that, Madge is no longer Undersee. Soon after, the couple is moved to stand in front of the fireplace and they kneel down to do the toasting. Delly opens her way to the front of the crowd, but Katniss remains where she’s standing; she can’t see anything of what’s going on, but she doesn’t really mind. She knows how it goes. Besides, she isn’t sure she wants to see how they twist this as well. They’ll probably use a more expensive kind of bread than just the traditional plain white loaf. And maybe they’ll hold it over the fire with a fancy pair of tongs, and not just a couple of forks, or sticks found in the meadow.

So instead, she looks around her, easily being able to point out the people from Thirteen, not only because she does not recognize them, but because their eyes are fixed ahead, a look of curiosity and eagerness plastered in their faces while they watch the toasting take place.

Slowly, men and women start singing the toasting song, gradually gaining force from every person that joins in, turning the crowd into a choir. Katniss signs along, softly, and mostly to herself, but for Madge as well, because the quiet girl that had sat at lunch with her all those years at school got married today.

She seems to always be able to find Peeta through the crowd, even if she is not searching for him. He’s standing besides his father, his mouth moving along with the lyrics of the song. He turns his head suddenly, and she darts her eyes away. And blushes madly under the heat of his stare. She ignores him for the remaining of the song, and as soon as it ends she dashes towards the garden, pushing through the throng of people that moves against her trying to reach the newlyweds to congratulate them.

But soon after, the party is moving outside as well, including the bride and groom and, her stomach churns, Peeta. But he doesn’t seek her out; instead he crosses the yard straight to the table he had been standing beside earlier, where she had first spotted him.

It’s time for the unveiling of the cake, someone announces. She has never heard of this tradition before, maybe it’s a merchant thing? They don’t have it in the Seam (even if they can afford a cake to start with), but it doesn’t sound like something from Thirteen either, though who knows?

That’s when she notices them. The cameras. Zooming in; placed strategically around the white box on the table and the freshly married couple that stands next to it. She had seen a few people carrying some black stuffy things over their shoulders, but she hadn’t recognized them for what they were, only having a faint memory of what the cameras from the Capitol looked like from when she was still a kid and the District had to attend Reaping day, and not being used to this bigger, less modern, version that Thirteen uses. Had they been filming the entire time? If so, why?

Her head snaps back to the front when she hears the gasps of awe from the crowd. She missed the revealing, but there, in the centre of the table, now rises a four-story white cake. With forest green arrowhead-shaped leaves falling from the top, flowing down and curling around the white icing like ivy. If they weren’t poised on a cake she would think they’re real. No one else will recognize them, but she _knows_ them. _Sagittaria latifolia_ ’s leaves. Somehow Peeta must have found them in a book; it’s just a stupid coincidence. Only he would have thought of putting leaves from a plant called ‘duck potato’ on a cake for a toasting. Yet the result is beautiful and delicate in its simplicity. Almost going against what the wedding has been so far.

Husband and wife cut through the base of the cake, and a fragile sound escapes her throat; the spell broken. And right behind the cake, guiding the couple, stands Peeta, piercing blue gaze fixed on hers.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is long over due and I'm sorry.  
> I haven't been writing much lately, first, because my computer is going through a slow and painful death and it puts me in a bad mood to have to wait about half an hour just to start up, so I've been going to the library instead and making notes and edits on my phone. Yeah, not the best, but it works for now. Sadly, I don't know when I'll be able to buy a new one, hopefully in January.   
> Secondly, I was recently told that my family is coming here for a visit and it kind of threw me off and I've been passively freaking out ever since. The reason why I'm telling you this is because they're getting here next week (the 21) and staying for two weeks, which means, seeing how the last couple of weeks have been, I probably won't write much and I'm asking you to bare with me.  
> So, to whoever is still out there, thank you for your patience.
> 
> Moving on, this chapter was beta'd by the wonderful LavenderVanilla who spotted a whole lot of mistakes, so you have her to thank for my grammar. If you haven't read her stories you should definitely check them out, head over to The Baker and its sequel The Baker's Wife, and Love Bites, and although it's on my to-read list, Real or UnREAL.
> 
> Now, back to the story.  
> Thanks for reading and enjoy!

 

The next morning has Prim with stars in her eyes as she dances around the room with Buttercup in her arms, talking about everything and anything that happened at the wedding. Her mother listens from her place in a kitchen chair as she drinks a cup of tea and indulges Prim, softly humming along every so often.

Seeing Prim like this, Katniss wishes she could give her sister something more than a loaf of bread and a rented dress for when the time comes... She wishes they are still together by then.

“Oh, Mama, and the cake! You should’ve seen the cake! It was _amazing_!” Katniss freezes, the knife in her hand suspended in the air, hovering over the rabbit she’s currently skinning. Prim couldn’t have recognised the leaves, could she? Katniss has never brought them home, just the tubers, and Prim has never been to the lake... unless- “It was four storeys high, mama, _four_! And it had garlands of katniss’ leaves cascading down the sides, and when you looked up close you could see they were so carefully detailed they seemed real! It was the most beautiful cake ever!” -unless she had seen the drawing in the plant book.

“I wonder where Peeta got the inspiration from,” her mother muses. Katniss almost cuts off her finger.

“OH! You’re friends with him, right Katniss?” Prim jumps excitedly, “What if he likes you?”

“We’re not friends. I just trade with him.” She grumbles, saving the skinned rabbit for later, and washing her hands and knife.

“If you’re not friends with him then why does it always take you longer to trade at the bakery?”

“He’s _chatty_ ,” Katniss explains.

“I say he likes you!”

“He does not.”

“He decorated a cake with your namesake! He’s _smitten_!”

“Yeah, well, you’re dancing with a cat,” she points out, cleaning up the counter and putting everything back in place, “of course you’d say that.”

“Oh, leave Buttercup out of this. It doesn’t make it any less true.”

Their mother says nothing, just sits there, and smiles softly to herself while sipping her tea.

“The cake doesn’t mean anything, Prim.” She ends the discussion, her voice stern. “I’m going to Madge’s. Cook the rabbit for dinner, please,” she announces to the room on her way out.

 

She heads out of the Seam and crosses Town over to the Mayor’s house where the party had been held the day before. She wasn’t actually sure that Madge would be there, not knowing if she’d continue living there now that she was married or if the couple had moved out already, but she had gone to the woods earlier that morning and collected a small bucket of strawberries for her friend, complete with a red ribbon that Prim tied on the handle. It was meant as a belated wedding gift and she was eager to deliver it before the berries could get spoiled.

She knocks on the back door, hoping that she can leave her present with one of the maids and then maybe spend the rest of the day at the lake, but when the door opens, she finds herself standing in front of none other than the husband, whose name she can’t recall. They had only spoken once, when he accidentally interrupted Madge and Katniss having a conversation in Madge’s room; he had come up to say goodbye before he went back to Thirteen with his mother and found the blonde girl with a blotchy face and tears running down her cheeks. He had taken over the conversation then and Katniss had left.

 “Hey, Katniss, right?” He extends his hand for her to shake.

She hesitates a second before taking it. “Right.”

“I’m Gert.” he supplies, not calling her out on her obvious bad memory.

She gives him a small nod and offers him the standard ‘congratulations on your marriage’, before lowering her arm back to her side. He thanks her with a wide smile, like he still can’t get his head over the fact that he got married.

“Is Madge here?”

“I’m afraid not, she’s still at the Justice Building. I can tell her you came by when she returns... unless you want to deal with me instead?” he says with a tentative smile. She scowls at this.

A hearty laugh escapes him. “No need for that, I’m harmless!” he raises his hands up to his chest with his palms towards to her in a placating manner.

She doesn’t know how he’ll react to her trespassing to the woods to pick strawberries, but if he asks she can say she grows them behind her house... he’s from Thirteen after all, how much can he know about the plants that grow inside of Twelve and the ones that don’t? And he _is_ the groom after all, the gift is for him as well.

She offers him the bucket filled with strawberries, his hands stuttering before stretching forward to take it. “It’s a gift,” she says, “for you and Madge. For having toasted. The ribbon is from Prim- I mean, my sister.” He thanks her profusely, insisting on how much Madge is going to love them. “I hope she can eat them, with... with everything,” she adds. If this were Madge she was talking with she could just ask her if the ginger she gave her helped with the morning sickness she had been having. But this is _Gert_ , and she doesn’t know how to act around him.

“Oh.” His eyes widen, suddenly remembering that she does know, but he takes it in stride, “I don’t think she’ll have a problem. Yesterday she ate the cake just fine, and it had strawberry filling. She’s going to like this very much, Katniss, she’s been craving them actually,” he lowers his voice, “if... if you could go and get more? We’d be happy to buy some.” Now she’s the one taken aback, his implication clear in what has been left unsaid: ‘if you could go _to the woods_ and get more’. She doesn’t know how he learned about her habit of going outside of the District limits. Maybe Madge told him? ...A secret for a secret? Is this how it works? She purses her lips. She doesn’t feel like giving them the bucket of strawberries anymore.

She nods. Yes, she’ll bring them more strawberries. Just because she needs the money. And yes, she’ll stay silent. Even though he hadn’t meant it that way.

 

She leaves then, walking across the Square Town to head back home to the Seam, scowl set on her face. She casts a look towards the bakery and quickly has to make a double check, freezing, because right there in the front of the store talking with Peeta stands Petunia Plum. She wouldn’t make anything of it if it weren’t for the fact that she’s right beside him, _behind_ the counter.

Almost as if he can feel her stare on him, Peeta turns his head and meets her eyes from the other side of the front window. And not a second later, he’s moving Petunia out of his way to go around the counter, the bells above the door startling when he yanks it open. She gets the sudden urge to flee. But for some unknown reason she stands still instead, as he rushes towards her.

“Katniss,” he grins, coming closer. A thin sheen of sweat covers his hairline, probably caused by a mix of the heat of the ovens at the bakery and the unusually hot spring day, the fabric of his shirt clinging to his chest beneath the apron. She can feel the sun on her skin, making her uncomfortably warm.

She curls her lips upwards in a weak greeting, too aware that this is the first time they talk since she asked him to marry her. Inside her mind a prayer goes on a loop, imploring him not to bring it up.

“We didn’t get to say hi yesterday at the wedding,” he starts.

“Too many people,” she tells him bluntly, overlooking the fact that she had been staying away from him on purpose. She’s not sure if he was going to add something else, but she has this sudden urge to defend herself from it.

“True,” he chuckles and runs a hand through his hair. “You looked beautiful though, I didn’t get to tell you that. Did you enjoy yourself?”

She looks down, trying to hide the blush on her face, flustered by the way he can compliment her so offhandedly. She can’t get used it. It’s not like he does it often, she could probably count the few times on her fingers, but still. It makes her self-conscious, yet not in an unpleasant way. “Thanks. It was okay, I guess,” she shrugs.

He shuffles his feet, moving the weight of his body from one to another. “Um, did you...” he starts nervously, his hand clinging to the back of his neck. “Did you see the cake?”

Her insides curl and roll and twirl. No. Don’t bring up the cake. “Yes. Prim loved it.” Her mouth feels dry suddenly, and she doesn’t know what else to say, words running away from her. There is so much she wants to tell him, wants to ask him about.

“I’m glad she did. And you?”

She gives him a puzzled look.

“Did you like it?” His eyes remain earnest, studying her expression for a clue.

She bites her lip, nodding slowly. “Yeah... It was beautiful, Peeta.” It was much more than beautiful. It was delicate and elegant and soft and delicious. She can still taste the leaf she put on her tongue and feel how the sugar melted inside her mouth.

She wishes she knew how to say all of that.

He beams at her anyway. “What are you doing now?” he asks her, burying his hands inside his pockets.

“Uh, I was heading home, actually.”

“So you have time now then?” A grin starts to spread across his lips.

“I guess.”

“Great! Do you want to come to the bakery then?” She furrows her brows. “I thought we could hang out, maybe.”

“Um”

“You said you were free,” he reminds her.

“Yeah...”

“C’mon then.” For a second she thinks he’s about to reach for her hand to drag her with him, but at the last moment he turns around and starts walking. Not even three steps later he half turns to look back at her to check if she’s coming. He seems amused when he sees she’s still standing there and nods forward, indicating the bakery with his head, beckoning her to follow him.

After a beat, she shuffles her feet and trails behind him.

They enter the bakery through the front door and she’s hit by the smell of pastries and fresh bread. Petunia Plum stands behind the counter, looking like she ate a mouthful of coal and stares at her with disgust. Katniss gives her a scowl in return, although she is happy for Peeta, she really is; he finally got someone to help him at the bakery. Both of his brothers are married now, Rye only helping a few times a week, his father’s old age is starting to show, and his mother refuses to work anymore, leaving Peeta to carry the weight of the bakery. So it’s a good thing, Petunia being here. It is. She didn’t know they were together, and he could be with someone a lot nicer. But who is she to judge? It must be pretty serious if she’s working here. Merchants don’t learn their partners trade unless they are going to marry.

Her cheeks feel hot again, just at the thought that she had proposed to him not but three weeks ago; she blames the burning in her eyes on that as well. _Why did she have to do that?_ The memory still replays painfully vivid in her mind. It just makes it worse now, the fact that they were most likely together then, he probably even told Petunia later and they had laughed about it together. Oh foolish Katniss.

But she hadn’t seen Peeta with a girl in years, so she had just _assumed_.

She almost doesn’t want to follow Peeta through the door that leads to the back, but staying with Petunia in the front seems even worse. So she enters the kitchen behind him, even though she doesn’t understand what she’s doing here.

Her eyes roam around the room, giving a quick glance at everything from this new point of view, finally landing on Peeta who stands in the middle looking back at her expectantly. “I know you’re used to coming in from the other side, so,” he makes a dramatic pause, “ _this_ is the kitchen,” he says in a silly voice, like he is Fulvia Cardew, his arm presenting the room to her as if she has never been inside before. She’s not sure if he’s laughing at her, but she doesn’t like it. Her hands feel clammy and awkward and “I should go,” she blurts out.

His face falls. “But you just go here!”

“Peeta” _Please don’t_ , she wants to say.

“Let me show you my current work in progress at least,” he begs her with his eyes and carefully takes a step closer, his hand reaching up to her face, she thinks. Soft fingers brush her cheek as he tucks a lock of hair that escaped her braid behind her ear. The tingles that spread through her skin clash with the pang she feels in her chest. “I want your opinion,” he tells her softly.

She looks away, but agrees anyway.

“Is this it?” she asks, moving away from him, trying to steady herself. She looks down and studies the sheets with icing patterns that rest on top of the work table in the centre of the room. She doesn’t need him to give her an answer; she has clearly found it on her own. White, intricate mandalas formed by tiny flowers, soft and puffy. She wants to touch them to see if they’re as soft as they seem, but is afraid of ruining them. “Queen Anne’s lace,” she tells him, her voice full of awe.

He smiles at her, coming to stand beside her, proud that she recognised them. “Yes! I was thinking of doing some actual lace to go with them on the cake.”

Who’s cake? She suddenly wonders... _Petunia’s?_ Is that why he’s asking for her opinion? He never has before, not that anything she could have to say would actually matter, but maybe that’s why he’s asking now, to get it absolutely perfect. It would be his toasting after all; it’s only natural to be nervous.

Her throat feels tight, and she tries to inhale deeply, but the air just gets stuck somewhere inside her.

It bothers her. That he hasn’t told her. If he’s already making his toasting cake he should have said something by now. She thought they were close enough for him to tell her something like this. _Maybe it’s not his toasting_ , she has to remind herself, _you don’t know for sure_.

But then again he didn’t even tell her about Petunia.

She’s getting angrier by the second and she prefers it to the turmoil inside her so she lets the ire run rampant through her veins.

She sets her jaw. “No, you can’t do that.”

He’s taken aback by her reaction and sudden change. “Why not?”

“Queen Anne’s lace. _Daucus Carota_. It’s used, well its seeds that is, it’s used to induce abortions.” She tells him as matter of fact, moving away from the table.

“Oh,” he runs his fingers through his hair, his eyes flying away from the inquisition in hers. “Maybe I can still use them for a different type of cake or something...”

They stand in silence, Peeta staring at the delicate mandalas. He looks confused. If it’s by the flowers or by her, she doesn’t know.

She waits for him to say something; anything. _Explain_ , maybe.

She sees Peeta’s tongue peek out from his mouth once to wet his lips as if he’s going to say something, but remains silent.

All she gets is the sound of his fingers nervously moving against the edge of the table.

She gets tired of this nonsense and releases a huff. “I should go now, Prim will be waiting for me to make dinner,” she lies, snaking her way past Peeta and heading to the back door, as she’s used to from the few times she has come in before. “Say goodbye to _Petunia_ from me,” she adds, just out of spite.

“Katniss”

She turns back to him, her hand holding the door open.

He stares at her with his brows furrowed, a serious expression she’s not used to seeing directed at her. She gives him a fierce look in return, challenging him to question her last comment.

It’s then that he catches her off guard. “You don’t have to avoid me,” he says, not incriminating her, but not letting her get away with her past weeks of avoidance either.

“I’m not-”

“Don’t deny it, Katniss,” he cuts her. His tone softens before adding, “Dad told me you came by a few times when I wasn’t here,” he tells her gently.

Her eyes fall to his shoulders, embarrassed. She feels like she should defend herself even though it’s the truth. She _has_ been avoiding him. But she doesn’t want to apologise when he’s been lying to her. She blinks a few times before looking back at him when he speaks again. “I just want you to know that you’re always welcome at the bakery when I’m here, okay? Even if it’s not to trade. I’m always happy to see you.”

She has to bite her tongue to keep herself from saying something she shouldn’t, like ‘me too’. She gives him a curt nod, before walking out the door.

 

She spends the next day in the woods. A day without people or interactions. She doesn’t have to agree with anyone. Just shooting whatever comes her way. The pleasant thud of the arrow hitting its mark a statement on itself.

No, Prim, Peeta does not like her.

 Yes, Madge, I’ll keep your secret.

And no, Peeta, I do not care about your stupid’s Queen Anne’s lace or your Petunia, and I’ll avoid you if I want to.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Your thoughts are always welcomed, so please feel free to comment away.
> 
> I'm thestuckinbed on tumblr


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